Our kitchen became hers when
she moved in with us
after Grandpa died.
She taught me classic
peanut butter cookies—
how to crisscross the tops with sugared fork.
I watched knee-side as she made
cream pies, one after the other,
laying a blanket of raw pie crust in a tin,
poked with fork, baked, let cool,
and scooped full with mounds of creamy goodness
in rich dollops filling up the shell.
She shaved chocolate,
sprinkled toasted coconut,
layered thick meringue.
I wish I could look
into that kitchen window,
peering in from the backyard,
and see her strong capable hands,
her quick movements,
my eyes wide and hopeful,
youthful innocence and joy
sticking to my fingers
like sugar and cream.
Oh, for a quick taste
of memory—
like the window to a long-forgotten dream.
© 2026 Jennifer Wagner
Poetic Bloomings: Windows
image above created by me using copilot
What a wonderful memory and well told in this poem. "like the window to a long-forgotten dream" - my favorite line. I always enjoy when you write about her.
ReplyDeleteWhat a delicious memory!
ReplyDeleteThis is so lovely!
ReplyDeleteThe child in wonder lick her lips here.
ReplyDeleteHello Jennifer, this is lovely poem about the taste of memory.
ReplyDeleteThose crisscross peanut-butter cookies are still one of my favorites. A wonderful window to another time.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful tender poem. Takes me back to my grandmother's kitchen (sigh).
ReplyDeleteI wish for such memories but alas neither my grandmother or mother were much into cooking... maybe I need to build it myself from scratch.
ReplyDeleteI love this poem, Jennifer, which resonates with me and reminds me of my own grandmother. Baking together is a special experience that stays with you. I especially love:
ReplyDelete‘…see her strong capable hands,
her quick movements,
my eyes wide and hopeful,
youthful innocence and joy
sticking to my fingers
like sugar and cream’.
I could do with a quick taste of memory.
Such a beautiful, sugary memory put into a poem.
ReplyDelete